Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
by Nyte Quill
Summary: Rusty and Sharon leave a lot unsaid. Part 2 up. Spoilers for "Year-end Blowout". My first Major Crimes story. R&R and as always, enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

When she adjusts his bulletproof vest so it's less constricting, his hands are fisting at his sides. As she buttons his shirt and tells him to breathe with her, offering reassurance and steadiness, her hands linger on his shoulders in a reaffirming squeeze. She almost hugs him... but she doesn't.

When she breaks away to hand him his jacket and pack (and give a low-toned reminder about the pepper spray she slipped him) he almost reaches for her... but he can't.

As he walks toward the elevator bank and off to his first day of assignment, she almost tells him she loves him... but settles for a reassuring smile when he looks her way.

In the moments before the car arrives to take him down, he takes one last look at Sharon. Standing there, trying so hard to be calm for him. He almost says, "I love you." But he won't.

When the man casually flips those threatening pages in the park, Rusty's palms break into a slimy sweat. He fumbles to undo the connector for his wire, fighting his training to comply with the man's orders, developing tunnel vision to everything but the words **your mom dies.** He wants to scream for help... but he can't.

After everything that's happened, all she's put him through, she's still his mom and he's still in this to save her and this is the only way. Isn't it? The reason he'd blown up so much at Doctor Joe the week before when he'd referred to Sharon as Rusty's mother was because he's under a lot of stress with all this and he _has_ a mother and Sharon's great but she could never take that place away. Even though she loves him, and has spent so much time fighting for him, and wants to keep him safe no matter what, and always tries to be there for him, even when he's pushing her away to cling to the memories of his mom.

They may have the same name, but the women in his life couldn't be more different. 'Mom' equals Sharon Beck, which is why he just calls the Captain 'Sharon'. You don't call moms by their first name. Sharon's just his guardian, and he's just her witness... even though he knows that's not true.

He's on his feet and the tunnel vision opens back up to a swirling world of potential threats. There are people everywhere and he's totally alone. Are those eyes really looking at him or is it just his panic? Who around him is there to help... and who is there to hurt? There's no time to think about this. He has to get out of here.

When he slides into the front seat of his car, shaking and scared, he has a split second to remember how ticked Amy would be that he didn't check the backseat before the gloved hand covers his mouth. As the cool cylinder of the gun barrel presses into his temple, his world constricts again to one single thought: _Sharon, I'm sorry._

**A/N: well, my first ever MC story. After that super tense cluster of moments, it just screamed "fic me!" so I did. Hope you liked it. Whether you did or not, let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

On the drive back, Rusty listens to Amy's tirade about protocol and procedure and the way he _totally_ blew it with one ear and exactly 9 percent of his attention. Another third is shifting to autopilot, conveying him in the direction of home without much conscious thought. The remainder is entirely focused on Sharon. Somewhere in the back, a tiny sliver thinks he should be worried about his mom... but the moment Amy broke the news about the man in the park being on their team he shifts from concern over her to a sudden anxiety to check on Sharon. She has to be okay; she just... _has _to be.

By some miracle (a virtual blessing of the traffic gods, really, considering it's rush hour in L.A.) he arrives home in good time without killing anyone or getting pistol whipped by Amy (although he sort of senses the thought as it crosses her mind). Grabbing his pack off the seat beside him, he dashes into the building without a backward glance, leaving a gobsmacked Amy in the backseat. Hopefully, she'll understand. If not, she can kill him tomorrow. Or just come upstairs and do it there; Sharon would probably help with the paperwork as long as he gets to hug her first.

* * *

Sharon is about to take a sip of her freshly brewed tea, relishing the relaxing scent, when the front door slams shut. Sneakered footsteps pad around the entryway, and she hears the familiar thud of Rusty's bag hitting the floor. The mug rings gently against the counter as she sets it back down, leaning forward to look down the hall at the pacing form of her son... ward.

"Rusty?" Her voice is soft but distinctly heard as he whips around to face her. His expression confirms it; something is wrong. Mom-sense and cop sense are combining in her head, compiling every possible scenario and solution, when he breaks into a jog and comes toward her, skidding to a stop an arm's length away. "Sharon, I... it... there was this..." His voice is cracking with emotion and strain, and his hands are plowing through his hair and gesturing futilely toward the door, and his sweet blue eyes are shimmering with tears.

"Shhh..." she soothes, stilling him with a hand on his cheek. The pad of her thumb gently strokes the apple as she wonders and worries and works on what to do next, when suddenly his arms are around her ribs and his head is pressed against her shoulder, turned to keep her hand on the other side as he curls into her. The slight tremor in his slender form has her other arm across his shoulders and holding him tightly before she can blink. He continues to shake, so she carries them into the momentum, gently rocking him back and forth in her arms as she lays her cheek on his hair and murmurs maternally in his upturned ear. "Shh... It's all right... you're safe... I'm here... you're all right... I'm here..."

They stay like that for a while until Rusty calms down and shifts a little, loosening his death clutch on her before tucking her shoulder under his chin. She mirrors the gesture, rubbing little circles under his shoulder blades, waiting for him to speak or pull away or... something. 'Something' is ultimately the knock on the door. Feeling the resurgence of tension in him at the sound, Sharon offers to let it go unanswered, or send whoever it is away. With a quiet snuffling sound, Rusty shakes his head, replying, "It's okay."

Pulling back a bit to regard him, Sharon sees that the worst has past and gives a slight nod before pinning him with a look. "But," she begins in a tone of quiet authority, "we'll talk later. Right?" The only negotiable point of this is the 'later', because she won't push him but they obviously need to discuss whatever sent him vaulting into her arms.

He nods back, looking at the floor with a soft "yeah." She gives his shoulders a firm squeeze and he releases his already slackened hold on her, only asking if he can get to his room and start his homework before she opens the door. They take the walk up the hall together and he retrieves his bag as she informs the person waiting she'll be just a minute.

The teen pauses at the threshold of his room, visibly swallowing before he looks at her again. "Sharon?" His voice is tentative and heartbreakingly young. "I, uh... I wanted to tell you... I mean, you should know-" He breaks off, still wrestling with whatever had sent him into the state in which he'd arrived.

"It's all right, Rusty." She saves him, and directs him into his room with a little shooing motion. When the door _shooshes_ closed behind him, she whispers, "I love you too," and opens up to admit a glowering Det. Sykes.

**A/N: well, I had to take it just a little further. Hope you liked it; whether you did or not... well you know the drill.**


End file.
